Cling
by Master Of One
Summary: He never used to cling like this. Set after the movie, but with Jack still around and more or less intact. Short oneshot.


Hello there . . . I don't know what to say. This entire thing wrote itself, literally, in a dream that woke me at four in the morning a week and a half ago. All I had to do was find time to sit down and type it, which I finally did. I hope you'll tell me what you think of it!

I should point out that I've never read the short story, although I want to, so I'm not going to even attempt to copy Annie Proulx's writing style (whatever it may be). I've tried to keep true to the tone of how Ennis and Jack really might think and really do talk, although I get tired of cutting off all the soft "t" sounds at the ends of words - so I didn't do it. (I think it's hard to read, so I'm assuming there must be people who agree with me.)

2 APRIL 2006: Because I've gotten such a nice response on this story, I decided to go back through and clean it up a little. If you've already read it it's probably not worth your time to read it again unless you really liked it (mostly I had to fix things like "and/n" and "of/a" and added a couple of sentences), but I just wanted to point out that I did do some cleanup, just in case you care.

With that said, I own nothing that you recognize. Enjoy.

* * *

He never used to cling. 

There was a time when he slept just sorta spread out, arms n legs flung wherever to the far corners of the compass, on top a everythin that happened to be in the general vicinity - pillows, blankets, Ennis, laundry, the grocery sack, anything would do - but that time was over, n it would never come in the same way again.

It started when he showed up in Wyoming after everyone else thought he was dead, lookin very much the same except the mustache was gone n he had two long, healing cuts on his face that would later turn into long, white scars. He turned up on Ennis' doorstep lookin like a hound dog that got caught in the henhouse - ashamed, n more'n a little embarrassed.

He didn't come to stay, he said, just needed a place to sleep for a day or two until he figured out where he was goin for keeps. He only had thirty dollars to his name, and that was only because he'd had two tens, a five n some change in his wallet the day . . . right. There was better'n seventy thousand dollars in a bank account down in Texas, enough to buy a real nice piece of land somewhere n start raisin horses or somethin like that, but he couldn't lay hands on it. That was Lureen's price for spiritin him out of the state without tellin anyone, just in case the men who went after him decided they wasn't finished when they found out . . . "well, you know."

Ennis knew. He offered a cup a coffee n some soup n crackers, leftovers from lunch. Nothin fancy, but it was food, and Jack looked like he hadn't eaten anything decent since leavin Texas three weeks before. Jack ate gratefully. Then Ennis asked him why he hadn't gone back to Lightning Flat. Jack only shrugged.

"They know me up there."

"What's that got to do with anythin?"

The grin Ennis got for answer wasn't a Jack Twist smile. It was small and hard and bitter, and there was no laughter or hope in it anywhere. "Let's just say maybe you were right this time - Ennis."

Apparently Jack had finally decided they were too old for nicknames. Ennis didn't press the matter.

* * *

They sat in silence for most of the afternoon. Jack explained briefly how he'd gotten out of Texas - apparently Lureen was goin out with the doctor who'd pronounced him dead, although nobody else knew thatn wouldn't know it for a long time,n from there they'd just faked a few things - so Ennis wouldn't ask a thousand questions later. It was one subject he really didn't want to talk about. 

Ennis told him about Junior's fiance. Junior had taken himn Kurt to lunch the day before. He thought maybe Junior just wanted an excuse to get him out of the house. He didn't go to town too much anymore because the truck . . . "well, it might be easier to say what _ain't_ wrong with it, is all," he explained. One a these days somethin really vital would go - Ennis was bettin on the radiator - and then he'd just be left walkin.

Other than the lack of mile-a-minute chatter, Ennis couldn't see that too much was actually wrong with Jack until they turned in for the night, when Jack asked if he could borrow the couch.

"What the hell you want the couch for? You ain't even got anyplace to put it."

That was when he started to suspect somethin was wrong . . . because he knew as soon as he'd said it that he'd just missed what Jack was really sayin, and Jack didn't make some wiseass comment about it.

"Just wanted it to sleep on."

Oh, _somethin_ was definitely wrong. But he still didn't press the matter.

* * *

The time for pressin might of come about one o'clock in the mornin when he woke up to a loud cry from the corner of the trailer, but Jack took such pains to make sure Ennis was still asleep that he didn't have the heart to say anythin. Instead, he watched while Jack went into the tiny kitchen and got some water from the tap, drinkin straight out a his cupped palm. Then he went out on the front steps and lit a cigarette. 

Ennis frowned. Jack had stopped smokin, more or less, close on four years ago. Sometimes if they were havin a drink or talkin for a long time he'd bum a hit or two off Ennis, but that was all. Now he'd gone through two smokes in just under ten minutes. Ennis was on the point of gettin up n talkin to him anyway when Jack stubbed the half-smoked cigarette - his third - on the step and came back inside. Ennis laid his head back down on the pillow n drifted off into an uneasy doze.

* * *

He became more convinced around three-thirty, when he woke up and Jack didn't . . . although Jack sure was tryin mighty hard. Ennis thought Jack might fall off thecouch from thrashin so much. Finally he stood up and woke Jack himself. 

That was when he encountered the cling.

Jack grabbed his hand, and held on. Tight. Ennis found bruises the next day in the shape of fingers. Right then he wa'n't thinkin about his hand, though, even though it hurt. He was too busy starin at a pair of eyes that looked like a couple a campfire embers in th'after-moonset darkness.

"Put it down," Jack whispered, n then his eyes closed, hopefully to find more peaceful dreams.

But when Ennis heard him screamin again at a quarter after four, he'd had enough. Jack had teased him for years about lookin like an ox, and he'd always retaliated by doin somethin like pickin Jack up n throwin him into the lake. Now he pulled him off the couch and carried him over to the bed. If nothin else, he thought, he could wake Jack faster the next time he started carryin on . . . but soon as he slid back beneath the covers, he found himself immobilized in a death grip from shoulders to knees, Jack's head against his chest, arms around his waist and legs, his whole body pressed so close Ennis was afraid to breathe.

At least he'd stopped cryin for awhile.

* * *

Ennis was absolutely sure there was more'n just trouble come five-thirty or so, when he heard yellin again, but this time there was words in it that seemed to make some kinda sense. It sounded almost like a badly-tuned radio. He struggled to wake up so he could understand what the hell was goin on. 

"- the hell do you think you were _doin_, Ennis, gonna get us both -" Jack shook his head and walked out the front door. Ennis saw him light up again. It bothered him. Jack hadn't smoked like that in ten years or more - he always said smokin before breakfast made things taste funny all day long. He thought he'd figured out the trouble, though.

Whatever the hell had happened down in Texas, Jack Twist had literally been scared straight by it.

* * *

There wa'n't much to do after the dishes were done. Ennis was gettin tired a watchin Jack pacin around. It made him feel antsy. So finally he asked if Jack wanted to play checkers. It was th'only thing he had in the house besides a coupla packs a cards, and Jack couldn't play most card games any better'n he could shoot a gun. He wa'n't too bad at checkers, though. 

They played three rounds on a card table outside the door.

Jack lost all three times.

Once a dark-green truck close on ten years old rattled up the road. Ennis raised a hand to say howdy to the driver, old Will Johnson. Will was just about th'only person he saw these days, other'n Junior, on account a Will bein the town maintenance man.

Jack's response was incredible. He started to jump out a his chair, n then just sorta half-stood there, crouchin over it, watchin that truck like he was some kind a trapped wild animal and the truck was the predator gonna run him down.

Ennis wondered how close to the truth that was.

* * *

Jack agreed to sleep in the bed that night only because he'd pulled another one a his jumpin acts and spilled coffee all over the couch, and in spite of Ennis' best efforts it was still more or less soakin wet at nine o'clock. Ennis figured it'd be dry by morning, but damn miserable to sleep on until then. Jack agreed, but stayed as close to th'edge of the mattress as he possibly could. If he hadn't been so damn edgy, Ennis would have promised not to bite. The truth was, Jack was makin _him_ feel more'n a little paranoid, too. 

It wa'n't until two or three in the mornin that Jack started yellin again. This time there was no missin it, because he was right up next to Ennis' chest again, clingin for all he was worth. Ennis shook him awake. Jack retreated to th'other side a the bed. Ennis could see wet-lookin lines on his face that had nothin to do with scars of any kind . . . not scars on the skin, anyway.

* * *

It was close to dawn before Jack started up again, this time tryin to hit all the time he was yellin. Ennis took a good swing in the gut and another, damn painful, in the jaw before he managed to pin Jack's arms down, n as soon as he did Jack started cryin again, screamin that he was sorry, n stop, n don't touch him you bastard, n all kinds a other things Ennis didn't understand. Jack finally woke up, still in a panic, but this time he all but climbed into Ennis' chest instead a pushin away. Ennis let him. 

"You 'n me need to talk, Jack."

Jack flinched, like he knew exactly what they needed to talk about. He sniffled. Ennis reached over to the box on the nightstand and handed Jack a tissue. Jack sorta laughed, like a grown man shouldn't need one unless he was sick or dyin, and then wiped his face with it to dry the last of the tears still runnin down his face. Then he shook his head. Ennis was fairly sure he knew what Jack was tryin to say . . . not now. Or at least, not until he had a chance to make a kind of sense-makin story out a what was probably a very tangled bunch of events.

If Ennis had known how complicated things were goin to get before noontime, he might have suggested takin a nap first.

* * *

It was close on ten before Jack stood up and went out on the front steps. Ennis got a glass a water from the sink n followed him. Twenty years, even twenty very broken-up on-again-off-again years, had taught him plenty about what Jack said. Jack had once told him that his mother had said his tongue must be hung in the middle and forked on both sides, because two ends wa'n't enough for him to talk as much as he did. 

Ennis thought Mrs. Twist only knew the half of it. Just the way Jack picked up his hat or turned his head to look at someone (or somethin) said volumes. He kinda figured Jack was the only man alive who could talk that much and never get wore out, until now maybe. As it was, he had to wait a good three or four minutes for Jack to sit down and get as comfortable as anybody could get sittin on old wooden stairs. Then Jack started talkin, finally, and Ennis was almost tempted to say that it was more'n he'd said in the past three days.

"I reckon I oughta tell you first that you can hit me when I'm done," Jack started, and Ennis just stared at him. Sure, they'd roughhoused more'n once, and more'n a few times one or th'other of them (usually Ennis, who was bigger but didn't know how to use his head as an unfair weapon) ended up with bruises, but he'd only once ever hit Jack on purpose . . . and that had been twenty - almost twenty-one - years ago, the day they left Brokeback. Then Jack started talkin again, and the world as Ennis knew it disintegrated right in front a his eyes, sure as if a sandstorm had just sprang up outta nowhere.

"I reckon this all starts with Randall."

Ennis blinked - he couldn't help it. "Who the hell is Randall?"

He had the feelin that Jack woulda blushed if he hadn't been so wrung out already. "Randall was this . . . this fella I met down in Texas . . . on a business merger for L.D.," he added, as though the fact that it was a business matter changed it somehow.

"A side man."

Jack nodded. Now he was lookin down at the stair riser beneath his feet as though it was the most fascinatin thing he'd ever seen. Ennis felt suckerpunched, but he supposed he shoulda known that woulda been comin. Wa'n't that what they'd fought about last time they went up Brokeback? No, that had been Mexico. He shoulda known. He'd teased Jack for years about bein an Irish stallion and always throwin people off. He'd never understood why Jack didn't think it was particularly funny, th'ox and the stallion in harness together. He shoulda known. He had to force himself back to some kind a balance before Jack started up again.

"Randall . . . he and me sorta were the same kind a people," Jack tried to explain. "He had this fella in Mississippi, or said he did anyway . . . somebody he just always called Jay . . . don't know if that was his real name or not. Kinda always figured it was an initial. But hell, Ennis, if you was scared a shadows, Jay was scared shitless of his _own_ shadow. And the ghost in the closet on top a that. So me and Randall, we sorta got together a few times . . . side men, like you said."

"Was he - your father said -" Ennis tried to find a way around the roadblock in his throat and couldn't. Jack shook his head.

"That was Lorenzo - don't look at me that way, Ennis, he wa'n't like that - he just wanted the same thing I wanted, start a ranch and build it up, all on the level and everything. I reckon if that'd worked out I'd a probably never had a - whatever you wanna call it, like you and me- again, but hell, it woulda been worth it just to see somethin I wanted actually _happen_, you know?"

Ennis knew.

"But anyway . . . Randall . . . he went kinda . . . funny, after awhile. Not over you, he knew I had somebody up here, just like he had Jay in Mississippi. He just started goin crazy, real quiet, from th'inside out. Nobody really knows why. L.D. was talkin about buyin him out because he just wanted shut of him, because by then Randall was gettin real strange- this wa'n't too long before we went up Brokeback in July - and Randall, when he found out what L.D. was doin, he just went . . . I cain't even tell you, Ennis. You wouldn't get it. You ain't never seen it. It's like one a them atom bombs, or somethin, where they say you really cain't understand it unless you seen it, and maybe even then it don't make sense. But I hope I never see anythin like it again."

Jack paused for breath.

"I was kinda wonderin which was gonna happen first, was he gonna kill me or himself. N then he started goin on about how the whole damn thing was my fault, because a what I did . . . or made him do . . . or somethin. I never ast him to tell me about that damn cabin, Ennis, he told me himself when we was sittin on the bench waitin for the girls - Lureen and LaShawn, that's his wife - was his wife, she divorced him when he started losin it - to stop squawkin like a coupla hens at feedin time so we could go. Hell, it was almost midnight. But he was talkin like I was th'one who came up with the whole damn thing. N then he said I better just keep an eye on Bobby. That made me madder'n hell, I can tell you, Ennis, he was threat'nin my boy. Maybe he n me never got along too good, but he's still my son, n if L.D. hadn't got such a hold on him -"

Jack shook his head like he was tryin to get somethin loose in there. Ennis thought maybe he knew what was comin next. Jack pushed forward. It was a damn lot like startin a car, Ennis thought; he hadn't wanted to get up n go, but once he was goin, he wa'n't stoppin till he was done.

"So I started takin Bobby to school myself, n stuff like that - started actually gettin along with him for once, too - n then one day we was on our way to the high school n there was all this glass - all this glass - all over the road -" Jack hit the same roadblock Ennis had found in the back of his throat. He offered Jack a drink from the glass a water he'd brought out with him. Jack took it, drank, n then sat quiet for a minute or two before goin on. Ennis had to strain to hear him when he did.

"There was all this glass all over the road. I tried to miss it, n hit th'edge of a beer bottle - sliced the damn tire wide open. It looked like somebody busted their windshield all over the damn road, n then sat down n had a real drinkin party right in the middle of it. So I had to pull over, once I got control a the truck again,and change the tire. Randall, he comes up around the bend - it didn't hit me till just now, Ennis, but he came the same way I did n _his_ tires were all right. He musta seen the glass n moved it outta his way - or put it there himself, seein it was so damn convenient - n he gets out a his truck, this big ugly green thing like that fella was drivin th'other day, n comes over where I'm changin the tire, n asks me if I need a ride. I told him I just needed to get the spare on n then I could take care of it after gettin Bobby to school, n he said he didn't think I could do that. So I turned around to ask him why, you know, because you don't just say somethin like that - n he had this big long crowbar in his hand -"

Jack stopped short. Ennis kinda figured that was all there was to say, or as close as he'd ever hear to all of it. But it wa'n't.

"Before I blacked out - took about five minutes, even though I was seein spots the whole damn time - I saw him smash in the window on the truck - Bobby locked the doors when I got hit - n try to get in. N then I heard this real loud squeal - Bobby hittin the gas, I found out that was - they pulled Randall out from under the truck two miles later, when Bobby stopped in front a the store n went runnin in screamin for L.D., Lureen, anybody. He got his jeans leg caught in th'undercarriage n Bobby never even realized it, he was so keyed up. He don't even know how to drive, Ennis, he ain't even old enough for a learner's permit for another three months. But he made it all the way to Newsome's. I reckon he listened better n I thought when I told him about where the gas was, n the brake, n the gearshift n all that - figured he could use it when he did get a permit. But Lureen n I both kinda figured I'd be healthier for a real quick change of address, so I cut out about a week later, soon's all the formalities were tied up. Never even got stitches, although I prob'ly shoulda. Bobby did. He got two on the side of his forehead where he got cut from the glass. That son of a bitch tried to kill my boy, Ennis, n Bobby never did nothin to him but ask for help with algebra when I didn't know it n Randall did."

Ennis nodded. He wa'n't really sure what else to do. Then he thought a somethin.

"What about th'other fellas? You said when you got here -"

"Four of em," Jack confirmed. "Randall and one in Randall's truck - it was th'other one who was drivin, I figured that out when he went past after Bobby n Randall - n another one that came rippin through not long after Bobby took off. I kinda figure they was s'posed to be lookouts, or somethin. Double murder ain't easy to pull off, I reckon, but if I didn't have the world's most blessed luck that day n Bobby hadn't thought real damn quick, he woulda prob'ly got away with it. I called Lureen once since I left n she said they already got him in an institution. Reckon that's where he belongs."

Ennis nodded again. That sounded about right. But there was still somethin. He could still see it all over Jack's face, somethin still in there eatin away like an infected splinter. So he said so. Jack got even quieter than before. Ennis reckoned if he'd been talkin any lower he woulda been whisperin.

"Before he left me n went after Bobby . . . Randall, I mean . . . he made a mock outta you, Ennis, n I couldn't do a damn thing to stop him."

Ennis reached over n pulled Jack into a tight hug. He didn't know why, n later he just kinda figured he did it because Junior always gave hugs when anybody was upset n it seemed to make sense. Jack leaned against his shoulder. Ennis didn't want to, but he knew he had to ask - there wa'n't no point in pullin the splinter out if you didn't do nothin for th'infection.

"What'd he say?"

He had the feeling Jack closed his eyes, even though he couldn't see it.

"Kicked me in the back - you know, where your kidneys are - n said - he kicked me n said -"

Ennis offered him another drink to dissolve the roadblock.

"'Say hello to Cowboy Enn for me, Rodeo,' that's what he said." Ennis thought that was it, anyway - Jack wa'n't much more n breathin his words by now.

"Aw, hell, Jack, I've been called plenty worse," he tried to tease - it almost always worked when Jack was havin a bad time - but Jack wa'n't havin none of it.

"Don't matter. We had a deal, him n me. I didn't talk about Jay n he didn't talk about you, unless th'one who belonged to him brought it up first - I mean you n me or him n Jay. N I never said a damn word against his fella, never once. N he tried to make out you was a coward, Ennis, because you wa'n't down there with me, or I wa'n't up here with you, n he knew full damn well he was just as bad." Jack snuffled, and Ennis knew tears were comin on even if they wasn't sayin hello to the world just yet.

"Reckon he lost out for bein such an ass, anyway," Ennis offered. Jack didn't say nothin, but he quieted down some, n that night he slept in Ennis' arms to keep the nightmares away.

* * *

Four years later he is still sleepin there, only the bed is different and ain't two hundred miles or so from Lightning Flat anymore. He still clings, but now sometimes real early, before even the birds are wakin up, he can relax n just be. 

Ennis never planned on startin that ranch, but he kinda reckoned that day in 1983 that after twenty damn years of runnin away, Jack oughta have somethin real to hold on to instead a clingin to dreams for the rest of his life. He still talks to Lureen once in awhile, although Jack ain't ever found out - mostly because she wrote to him one day to let him know that Randall was goin on trial, in case Jack wanted to know. Somehow that bastard lived through bein dragged two miles under a pickup, n lived through an institution, but Ennis reckoned he wouldn't live through the trial, n he was right. Bobby testified, n Randall got the chair for murder in the first degree, or second degree, or some damn degree that meant a death sentence down in Texas.

Somebody had to make sure Jack wa'n't goin to be put in danger, though, n if Randall'd made it through Ennis reckoned they'd of had to haul stakes n go somewhere else even if they didn't want to. After Randall died he just kinda stayed in touch so Jack wouldn't lose all his family down there. Bobby ended up in college, n Ennis reckoned Jack was gonna wanta be there to see the first college graduate in all the history of the Twist family that he knew of, even if he had to stand way in the back n nobody could know he was there but Lureen and Bobby himself.

N now, sometimes real, real early, when both of em got home on time n shut off the lights early, Jack might wake up with one arm thrown off to the side, way out to th'edge of the compass, because he ain't got to cling so hard anymore to hold on.


End file.
